


Pure and Fair

by imagineagreatadventure



Series: The Progress [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Gendrya, Coming of Age, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Female Friendship, King Gendry, Mild Smut, One Shot, Prince Gendry, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 20:50:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11905974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineagreatadventure/pseuds/imagineagreatadventure
Summary: In a realm ruled by King Gendry and Queen Arya, Brienne of Tarth finds herself in Winterfell with a Kingslayer.





	Pure and Fair

**Author's Note:**

> After literal years I have finally finished this trilogy. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> And if you are only here for the JaimexBrienne, let me give you a quick overview of the previous two stories. Everyone is aged up, Gendry is a trueborn son of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister and is now the King. Sansa was married off to Willas Tyrell while Arya was married off to Gendry. 
> 
> And now onto the story...

The freezing winds crashed into the trees causing them to shake and Brienne to shiver. It was colder than she could ever imagine. She had lived through winter before — but no winter felt like this in Tarth. She remembered huddling under blankets and wishing to be warm but nothing had come close to how cold she felt now sitting in her saddle.

“It’ll get colder than this, my lady,” laughed one Northerner when he saw her teeth chattering. His smile was kind. “This isn’t even a real winter yet. But Winterfell is warmed by the hot springs — you will be comfortable there.”

Brienne wished she could remember the rugged man’s name but thanked him as best she could. He nodded and grinned again before moving up with the rest of his men. He was part of the guard that met Queen Arya and King Gendry’s Progress at White Harbor. They and the troupe of courtiers that had come with the King and Queen had sailed from Gulltown — but it was a small crowd. No one was eager to travel the North with winter coming.

Even King Gendry looked uncomfortable in the wintry weather, despite the layers and layers of fur he wore. He rode slowly — too encumbered by his furs to do anything else.

Looking at her King made Brienne think of Lord Renly and so she looked elsewhere, wishing that she did not like Queen Arya so very much. _I could be with Lord Renly now if I had not agreed to the Queen’s wishes,_ she thought, her heart twisting as she remembered Lady Margaery, Lord Renly’s new wife. Brienne could never be with Lord Renly in the way she wished.

Lord Renly had been left behind in the Red Keep,off-footing Hand of the King Lord Tywin Lannister and his grimaces with sweet, kind laughter. Brienne wished she could hear that laugh now instead of the Kingslayer’s cruel mocking laugh.

Perhaps the Kingslayer missed his home — perhaps he missed the rest of his family ( _his sister, his niece, his nephews, his brother, his father_ ) — but whatever the reason he truly did not need to be so cruel to everyone around him. It was unkind and no true knight would treat others as he did. But that was it. He was no true knight. He was a Kingslayer.

When Brienne asked Queen Arya why the Kingslayer was one of the Kingsguards chosen to travel she had glowered at her husband, who sat with his uncle on the other side of the room. “It was Gendry’s stupid idea,” the little Queen had said with a scowl.

Brienne wanted to know more than that but wisely didn’t ask, knowing it was not her business. It was all right, however. Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Richard Horpe, and Ser Arys Oakheart had also joined the Progress — even though the crowd of courtiers diminished after visiting the Eyrie. 

King Gendry pronounced his adventurous plan when they all were still warm and happy in King’s Landing. “It shall be the Crownlands, the Eyrie and then to the North and to the Wall, then we shall set sail from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea and travel to Maidenpool and then we’ll ride to Lord Edmure Tully’s home in Riverrun. From there we shall see the Rock and then travel back to Dorne —“

“A pleasant place to spend winter,” Lord Renly had japed.  

King Gendry ignored his uncle’s laugh. “From there we shall travel through Dorne’s lands and meet the Dornish people, traveling up into the Stormlands. Lady Brienne,” King Gendry said, meeting her eyes. “I would like to see Tarth and then travel to Dragonstone from there. Will that be possible?”

“I will make sure it is, your Grace.”

King Gendry’s grin reminded her of Arya’s. “Good. I hope Uncle Stannis won’t be too upset that he’s last on the list.”

“Why would he be upset?” Queen Arya had asked her husband. She had not yet met Lord Stannis, Brienne remembered, but she did not want to be the one to explain Lord Stannis to the Queen.

She allowed her King to do that, excusing herself from the plans and the room. _If only I had stayed,_ Brienne thought, _if I had stayed I could have persuaded them not to bring Ser Jaime._

But they had brought Ser Jaime, much to Brienne’s annoyance. The Kingslayer seemed to seek her out — out of boredom or malice Brienne could not discern. Now in the icy winds of the North, he rode next to her, sulking in the cold. “How many more miles of this utter shit do we have to take?”

She said nothing to him — not eager to engage Ser Jaime in conversation but the northern man glared at him. He knew better than to speak to Ser Jaime, however. The Kingslayer ignored the Northerner or at least pretended to. Brienne sometimes suspected he cared about people’s opinion of him more than he let on. It was perhaps the sad face he wore when Queen Arya was cheered by the people in the towns they passed — or the anger in his green eyes when other knights accidentally called him the Kingslayer to his face during one of their bouts. 

“And how much more fucking snow does this land need?”

“Are you a grown man or a child?” Brienne asked, tired of his complaints. “We’re in the North — it is cold in the North.”

“Now I see why Starks are the way they are.”

Brienne was affronted. “You speak of your Queen.”

“My Queen is my sister,” he told her. Brienne did not look at him, not eager to think of what she heard in a Gulltown tavern. 

Terrible rumors about King Gendry’s siblings swirled around in dark whispers and if King Gendry had not matched King Robert in looks exactly... well, then, Brienne would wonder if they were true. But it was safer not to think of the rumors. Safer to hope they were untrue. 

Queen Arya moved her horse so that she rode between Brienne and Jaime. The Queen glared at the Kingslayer — still displeased that he was there with them. There were rumors that Ser Jaime’s sister, Gendry’s own mother, had poisoned Arya’s father and it was only by the grace of the old and the new gods that Ned Stark had survived to see winter.

No one said it out loud though. “We will be home soon,” Queen Arya told them both. 

“Your home is in King’s Landing, your Grace,” the Kingslayer said, his voice mocking.

Queen Arya glared. “That’s your home. Winterfell will always be mine.” The Queen had never enjoyed being called by her title — she still flushed with anger when Brienne called her Queen Arya in private, preferring to be called Arya (even by those she did not like). But Brienne did not dare to be so familiar with her — at least in public. She felt forced to call the Queen by her given name in private - Arya always looked so pleased when Brienne gave in.

“Within the day you think, your Grace?” Brienne asked.

“Yes,” Arya said, although her eyes looked troubled. “Well, if the snow doesn’t get worse.”

Ser Jaime snorted and Brienne worried. 

But the snow did not get worse. It eased as they drew closer to the immense castle and at the top of one of the parapets Brienne could see a young man waving at them.

Arya laughed when Brienne pointed the figure out. “That’s Bran!”

Brienne had met Bran during the time he had studied under Ser Barristan but had forgotten that he went home not long after Arya’s wedding to King Gendry. She did not think that Queen Arya had seen him since then. 

“Hope he doesn’t fall,” the Kingslayer said, his voice laced with something Brienne couldn’t identify. When she looked at him, he smirked.

* * *

 Winterfell was glorious to behold although Brienne favored her own castle from her childhood. She surmised that at least three of hers could fit into one Winterfell with ease. Despite how cold and grim it felt, there was something magical about the northern fortress that made Brienne think of the tales from the Age of Heroes she used to beg to hear from her Father. Perhaps it was the glass gardens or the weirwood tree or the warmth of the Northern people — lord and common folk alike. 

“It has stood for thousands of years,” young Rickon Stark told Brienne. He came up to her out of curiosity it seemed for he would not stop asking her questions about how tall she was and what kind of sword she wore. It was a better sort of attention than she usually received and so Brienne engaged the younger boy. 

_He looks like his brother Robb,_ Brienne thought while watching him. When Rickon was a man rather than just a boy she was sure the two would look like twins. They both had the coloring of their mother, a woman that Brienne instantly gravitated to and connected with — something that surprised the both of them, Brienne suspected.

Lady Catelyn dressed in Northern clothes and braided her hair the Northern way but her Tully eyes spoke of her true heritage. “Was Arya well behaved?” she asked Brienne during the feast while Arya danced with her husband. 

Brienne was startled by the question but could see the concern in Lady Catelyn’s eyes. She loved her daughter, Brienne knew and was struck by a sorrow she did not understand. “She was,” Brienne answered. “She is a good Queen, Lady Catelyn.”

Lady Catelyn smiled at Brienne in a way that made Brienne’s sorrow ebb. “I am glad to hear it, truly.” The older woman sighed. “I always thought Sansa would be better suited to be a Queen but fate did not turn out that way.”

“Lady Sansa is happy,” Brienne said, thinking of her visit. 

“I know, I read her letters. I’m sure Arya’s told you of Sansa’s two little girls.” A beam of pride shone through Lady Catelyn’s blue eyes. “My first grandchildren. I wish I could see them myself but Lord Stark is not well enough to travel yet and I do not wish to leave him behind.”

Lord Stark was at another table speaking to another lord. Sometimes Brienne spied Lord Stark smiling at his daughter’s dancing with sad eyes and a grim mouth. He still looked sickly from whatever took hold of him at King’s Landing, Brienne noted. _I hope we have not come for a funeral._

“You are my daughter’s closest companion are you not?” Lady Catelyn suddenly asked Brienne. 

Brienne shook her head. “I would never presume —“

Lady Catelyn laughed. It was a quiet, strong laugh that made Brienne like the lady more. Brienne was so very used to mocking laughter that Lady Catelyn’s kind laughter made her smile. “Arya adores you, Lady Brienne.”

Brienne said nothing, too uncomfortable to agree. No one had ever adored her. 

Lady Catelyn’s laughter died and turned into a sigh. “Please remind her of her duties to the throne,” she said to Brienne. “I know this Progress may help heal old wounds but this healing may have to be done without her. She must have a healthy heir.”

“Gendry has two brothers,” Brienne said as quietly as she could. 

Lady Catelyn’s eyes darkened. “And some would rather one of them be on the throne. If my memory of Prince Joffrey is correct . . . it would be better for us all if that did not happen.” Brienne agreed but knew it would be foolhardy to say this out loud. “Please protect them, Lady Brienne.”

“Brienne is fine,” she said before could help it. She busied herself with the mutton, embarrassed. “And I will try.”

“Thank you,” Lady Catelyn said, her whole face relaxing. Brienne had not realized how tense she had been until now. “Arya trusts you and so I know I could as well. My girl is not a fool. She sees people as they are.”

_And what does she see in me?_ Brienne wanted to ask but did not dare. “I will protect her with my life if I must,” she vowed.

“I hope it does not come to that.”

* * *

The Kingslayer found her the day after the feast and offered to spar. Despite her dislike for the man, Brienne agreed for he had never offered to do so before. She had always dreamed of fighting an evil man like the Kingslayer and now she could — even if their swords were blunted. 

He was swifter than any man Brienne had ever fought with and when he smacked her on her backside with the broadside of his sword, she could feel the flames of humiliation rise up on her face. She was glad it was too early for most of the other men to train. 

“Are you even trying to give me a fight, wench?” he asked her, laughing. 

It was the sort of laughter Brienne had grown up hearing. She hit him then moving faster than he could, striking him right on his ribcage. If her sword had not been blunt and his armor not so well-made he could have been grievously injured. As it was he only shook from laughter. “Perhaps you are better than I thought,” he admitted.

She said nothing, glaring at him. 

“But I still had the first strike,” the Kingslayer reminded her.

“You won then,” she said and then looked away from him, gathering her things so she could get ready for the day. All of the Starks seemed to want her attention in some capacity. Bran and Arya wanted to take Brienne on a ride while Lord Robb’s wife Lady Wylla asked to sup together for lunch with Lady Catelyn. She had green hair, a wide smile, and a rounded belly. “It’s to be a boy,” she told Brienne with pride at the feast the night before. When Brienne asked how she knew, she only winked. 

“We should do this tomorrow as well,” Ser Jaime called out as she left the training yard. 

She wanted to decline but soon found herself in the same spot the next morning, almost surprised to find Ser Jaime already there. “Good I was getting tired of waiting for you,” he said.

Brienne was exhausted by the end of their bout, glaring at him. He only smirked in victory. 

It was only after the fourth day of this early morning sparring that she demanded a reason for his presence.

“You’re the only one who’s any good here,” he shrugged. “And I’m bored.”

“You were bored in Highgarden too.”

“There were men to fight there. Knights.”

This stung. “So you did not need me?”

Ser Jaime laughed. “Of course I didn’t, wench. Although if it’s any consolation, you’re better than any of them.”

Her stung pride healed at his compliment. Kingslayer or not, the man could fight. Still, she would not say thank you to a vowbreaker.

* * *

It was in the second week that the trouble came. 

There was news from the Wall, it seemed, and it was not good.

“A wildling King?” King Gendry asked. “I thought they did not kneel to Kings.”

Lord Stark’s eyes were closed but his voice was strong as the Valyrian steel sword that hung on his belt. “They chose their King.”

The Kingslayer was with them, guarding his King, looking everywhere but at Brienne. She knew that Ser Jaime wondered at her presence in this room, but Arya demanded that she be there. It seemed that she was the Queensguard for Arya - even if no such thing existed. 

Brienne kept silent as she watched the proceedings, worried that this meant something more.

“Lord Commander Mormont also writes of wights. . .” Lord Stark continued, opening his eyes. He looked older than his years, Brienne thought. The Kingslayer was only a year or two younger than Lord Stark and yet there was no grey in his hair… meanwhile Lord Starks’ beard was turning white. Ser Jaime smirked as if he were still a boy while Lord Stark’s eyes had seen more than anyone should.

“Wights?” asked her King. “Uncle Tyrion says that —“

“They don’t exist,” said Lord Stark. He sighed. “But I know Lord Commander Mormont. If he says this then it must be true.”

“There is a letter from Jon Snow as well, my Lord,” said the Stark’s maester. Lady Catelyn flinched at the name. Lord Stark’s brow furrowed, clearly surprised. Jon Snow was the bastard son of Lord Stark, Brienne remembered. He seemed like the least likely man to have a bastard son — her own father seemed much more likely and yet he had none. 

The maester handed the letter to Lord Stark but Arya grabbed it first. “Arya —“ the maester warned.

“Queen Arya,” Brienne found herself saying, trying not to blush when the men’s attention drew on her. 

Arya ignored them all, reading the letter quickly, her eyebrows raised. “He says the same as his Lord Commander,” she said. “And it’s Jon’s hand, Father. The wights attacked them at the wall — Ghost saved Jon and Jon saved the Lord Commander.” Her voice was gleeful. “The Lord Commander even gave Jon his sword Longclaw in thanks!”

“Isn’t that Valyrian steel?” Lady Catelyn asked, dismayed. 

Arya only nodded clearly relieved that her bastard brother was alive. “Yes! See, Gendry, we must visit the Wall if this is happening. We need to see it and tell those southron lords to send their men here!”

“It is not safe,” Lord Stark said. “Let me go in your stead, your Grace.”

King Gendry shook his head. “You are still unwell, my lord. I will go with a contingent of my men and your men, though, if you please.”

Lord Stark didn’t seem happy with this. “Of course,” he said. “But I must insist I come with you.”

“Father, you can’t come with us,” Arya said.

Both her husband and her father looked at her and then back at one another. Brienne suspected Arya would not like whatever they were about to say. Brienne suspected she would not either.

And she was right. “You must stay here in Winterfell,” Lord Stark said.

Gendry, wisely, kept silent but nodded in agreement. 

Arya was not as wise as her kingly husband. “Of course I’m going!”

The reaction from the others in the room was stronger than Winterfell’s walls.

“I am the Queen!” Arya protested as the rest yelled down at her, her defiance shining out from her face. But the others’ voices were louder and the thunderous noise was only cut by a quiet, “I just want to see Jon.”

Ser Jaime had said nothing during this, looking more bored than intrigued. Brienne tried to match his expression, not eager to show her distaste for the proceedings. She would only speak her thoughts to Arya later if the girl asked but she hoped she would not ask. She did not want to undermine the will of the girl’s father or the King.

But, of course, Arya asked.

“I should go, shouldn’t I?” she asked Brienne.

Brienne hesitated. “I am unsure, your Grace. Mostly because I do not understand why they think you should not go.”

Arya scowled and pulled her furs tighter. They stood on a balcony that overlooked Winterfell’s courtyard, watching the clanging of steel. Bran and Rickon were practicing their fighting with the Stark’s Master-of-Arms who was correcting both boys’ stances. “I wish I could be down there,” Arya said.

“Why can’t you?”

To Brienne’s horror, Arya began to cry. Wishing not for the first time that she was a true lady, Brienne pulled off a fur scarf for Arya to rub her face on. “I’m having a child,” Arya said, once she was finished wiping away the tears. “We were careful, you know, but…” 

Brienne bit her lip. “And that’s why?”

“That’s why I can’t go,” Arya said, her red-rimmed eyes furious. “It’s so stupid! Good Queen Alysanne went to the wall.”

But was she with child? Brienne couldn’t remember. “I’m sorry, your Grace,” Brienne said. 

“Mother says I’ll love the babe in time,” Arya said, glaring down at her brothers. “She doesn’t understand I already do. I just want to see the rest of my family.”

She wanted to see her brother. To see Jon Snow. Brienne wondered if she’d want to see Galladon this terribly. “Could Jon be one of the Black Brothers who goes south to collect more men?”

Arya laughed into her furs, still wiping her face. “Jon won’t leave the Wall if there’s wildlings and wights and White Walkers. He’ll stay by his Lord Commander. He’s a Stark.”

* * *

 

The Kingslayer was ordered to stay in Winterfell with the Queen while Ser Richard Horpe and Ser Barristan the Bold were to go North to the Wall. 

Ser Horpe was the newest member of the Kingsguard after Ser Mandon Moore’s passing so it surprised Brienne to see him join the King on the Progress let alone the journey to the Wall. But, knowing the other men who were left behind… it was better this way. 

“I’m glad Ser Meryn Trant is on the other end of the continent,” Arya said, watching the Kingsguard leave with her husband. The Queen had only kissed her husband on the cheek as he left, refusing a longer embrace. The hurt in the King’s eyes was evident to everyone around the rulers, but no one said anything. “Protecting that arsehole Joffrey.”

That left three Kingsguard for the Dowager Queen and her two children. Privately, Brienne thought it would have been better to bring another member of the Kingsguard with them, but Queen Cersei demanded that three be left behind despite the fact her own Father, the Hand, had brought over two hundred Lannister men with him to King’s Landing.

“The arsehole is called Prince Joffrey,” Ser Jaime said, sliding next to Brienne. He threw his Queen a pinched smile. “And he’s your good-brother.”

Arya made a face. “And your stupid nephew,” she said, unembarrassed. “Don’t pretend that he’s not.”

Ser Jaime’s face was unreadable. “As you say, your Grace.”

“It’s not as if it’s a very big secret,” Arya said, pulling on her furs. “Everyone knows he's a stupid ass.”

“Your Grace, if you’re cold, wouldn’t be better to go inside?” the Kingslayer asked, although his gaze was directed more at Brienne than the Queen. 

Brienne hoped she would agree to the suggestion. She could barely feel her lips even when she licked them. “I will not go inside. I’m not cold at all,” Arya said, “but you two can go. You’re too southron for this weather.”

“I can’t leave you, your Grace,” the Kingslayer reminded her. “I am your protection.”

“I’m home,” Arya said. “I don’t need you here.”

She needed Gendry, Brienne realized when she saw where Arya gazed — out into the snow covered lands where you could see Gendry and his men heading north. Or rather, Arya wanted him, wanted him home with her. Or wanted to be with him there in the cold snow. _She loves him_ , Brienne thought. 

“I will leave you, your Grace,” Brienne said, sensing that the girl wanted to be alone with her thoughts. “And you should come with me,” she told the Kingslayer. 

He dared to smirk at her. “I’m her guard. I will go nowhere.”

“For the love of —“ Arya turned to them both, her face red. “I’m going to bed and I order that neither of you can follow me there!”

Huffing away, Arya left them. Brienne was shamefaced while Ser Jaime only looked amused. “He really did pick a wolf didn’t he?” he asked her as they walked back indoors together. Brienne ignored the way the servants stared at her and at him. Ser Jaime was stared at for his looks or his ill-made deeds or sometimes both while she was only stared at for her height and ill-made face.

“King Robert?” Brienne asked.

“Who else would I mean?”

“Gendry chose to love her,” she said, softly as she could. 

“We don’t choose who we love, my lady.”

It was the first time Brienne could remember that Ser Jaime called her “my lady”. She looked back at him and was surprised to find him lost in thought. When he finally noticed her inquisitive look, he only smiled.

* * *

The cold sank into Brienne’s bones, shaking her in the middle of the night, making her wish for the sun to peek out of the storm clouds that was causing a nearly endless night. Maester Luwin said he had never seen such a snowstorm before but that did nothing to ease Brienne’s concerns that she was going to freeze. 

Even though Winterfell was heated by the hot springs underneath the castle, still the cold seeped in. The storm was lasting too long and causing tempers to flare as everyone was staying indoors together, huddling and cursing all at once. 

“It’s as if we’re in the depths of winter already,” Lady Catelyn despaired. Winter had come after all, but they were only half a year in. It would get much worse than this. 

“If it is bad here, imagine what it’s like at the Wall,” said Arya. Her stomach was still flat — the child had not grown big enough yet. Most did not know the truth of her condition (which Arya preferred). 

The Kingslayer knew, Brienne suspected. It was the way his eyes lingered on Arya’s stomach and the way he reached out to help the little Queen when she was struggling to remove herself from a chair. He also frowned when Arya asked for sparring practices inside the castle when normally he would have laughed.

“Tyrion wrote me,” the Kingslayer told Queen Arya. “He says that he wishes he came with us.”

“Gendry wanted him to,” Arya said. “Asked if he wanted to piss off the wall again.”

“Arya, language!” Lady Catelyn said, gesturing to Rickon who laughed in delight.

“It’s what he did when he was here last,” Arya said before stuffing a piece of bread in her mouth.

Lady Catelyn’s eyes flashed. “Manners.”

Arya stuck her tongue out and then Brienne knew she should leave the room. She could not remember her own mother, could not fathom the idea of saying such things in front of Septa Roelle, but then again… she did challenge a man to fight her if he wanted to marry her. Perhaps she wasn’t so different from her Queen.

The Kingslayer followed her out the door, his smirk in full-force. “My lady,” he said, mocking her. Ever since she flushed at his use a week ago, he liked to say it. It was what he said instead of wench now. 

“What do you want?” she demanded, making sure to draw upon her full height. She was glad she was taller than him — most men left her alone when they realized how big she was — but the Kingslayer never seemed to care. 

“My brother has asked after you.”

This surprised Brienne. She had only spoken to Lord Tyrion a handful of times and she suspected she had not seemed very impressive. “What has he asked?”

“If you’ve grown.”

That sounded like something both Lannister men would ask. She scowled. “No.”

Ser Jaime laughed. 

* * *

It was three more weeks before the King and half of his men came back with both of his Kingsguard. “The others stayed there,” he told them. “I ordered them to help hold the castle. Arya, we will have to postpone the Progress again. I need to send for more men immediately. There is great danger north of the Wall.  

The King’s blue eyes looked tired and there were new lines on his face that had not been there before. He was about her age, Brienne remembered, if not a year or two younger and yet he looked so old now. _Was this what duty did? Transformed you? Destroyed you?_ “Arya,” he said, holding his wife’s hand. “I must send you south, away from here.”

Arya tore her hand out of his. “No!” she protested. “This is my home. I’m not leaving.”

“Before it’s all you wanted to do!”

“I can’t leave you here!”

“I am leaving too,” he said. “I will be back here, but for now I must convene my council and tell them what we must do. I cannot allow my Grandfather to rule for me.”

“Good luck with that,” Brienne heard Ser Jaime say under his breath. She tried not to imagine the tightness in Lord Tywin’s face when he heard talk of White Walkers and wights.

“And where is my husband Lord Stark, your Grace?” Lady Catelyn demanded Gendry. 

Gendry flinched. “He is at the Wall still, my lady.”

Lady Catelyn was more frightening than any talk of White Walkers. “He is at the — you left him there!” 

“He is with Lord Commander Mormont.”

“And Jon!” piped Arya, in a poor attempt at comforting.

Lady Catelyn’s face crumpled and for a terrible moment Brienne thought the woman would weep. Instead, she held herself up higher, looking more like a Queen than her daughter did. _She is stronger than I will ever be._ “What does he need from us?”

“Men and food,” Gendry said, clearly relieved that he had somehow avoided a fight with his good-mother. “As much as Winterfell and the other Northern lords can provide.”

* * *

 

 Arya won and was staying put at Winterfell. Perhaps she lied or cajoled or wept or, most likely, threw a shoe at her husband’s head, but she was not going back to King’s Landing.

Her brother Lord Robb was not pleased. “With two enemies to the North of the Wall — well, Winterfell is no place for a woman carrying the heir to the throne.”

His own green-haired wife had just given birth to a son. Lord Robb sent both his child and his wife to her family in White Harbor, hoping that she’d be safe from any fighting that went on. “It will end soon, I’m sure,” he told Brienne confidently, his beard unable to hide his smile. They watched the men practice fighting in the courtyard, their stances much improved since the last time Brienne had watched them. Lord Robb sighed, “I know Arya will try something stupid if Gendry lets her stay.”

“He doesn’t let me do anything,” Arya said, coming from below. She had been visiting the crypts with King Gendry. The Kingslayer had been with them down below, the ends of his white cloak turning brown. The snowstorm had finally ended and now the ice and snow was dirty from footprints.

Gendry grinned down at his wife, besotted. “It’s true,” he agreed.

Robb laughed although something soft came over his eyes. _He misses his wife_ , Brienne thought, wondering what that would feel like. “I can’t say I blame you. Father and I have tried for years and Mother and Sansa tried for even longer.”

Arya’s smile lit up her face. “It’s true,” she said, glowing. Perhaps it was the babe she carried but she looked more beautiful as of late. While men had always seemed to enjoy looking at the Queen, especially when she stood next to Brienne, men seemed to stop and look at Queen Arya now.

“She looks like her aunt,” Ser Jaime said to Brienne later that evening. They were seated together under the high table with no one around, not even the servants. The rest had already finished their food. The other members of the Kingsguard followed the royal couple now and so Ser Jaime decided to harass her in his free time. “In the crypts it was even easier to see the resemblance.”

“Why were they in the crypts?”

Jaime shrugged. “I stood far from them, under Lyanna Stark’s shadow. They spoke of things I could not and did not want to hear.” He smiled at her then, his teeth dangerous and predatory. “Why do you want to know? Does the wolf queen not tell her little cub all the secrets?”

Brienne glared at him, hoping that would settle him down. “Am I a cub now?”

He laughed. “Suppose not, you’re too big to be a cub. Big Brienne.”

_Names cannot hurt me._ And yet she hurt. “Kingslayer,” she said instead, angry enough to call him the name she always wished to call him. 

If she wished to strike him in his heart, she suspected it would have been less lethal of a blow than that name. His green eyes were wide and his smile was cruel but it was all poorly masking a hurt that looked to be etched into his bones. “I may be that.”

“You’re an oathbreaker,” Brienne said, unsure of why the accusations were only now falling out of her mouth. “You were supposed to protect your King and you killed him.”

“He was a Mad King.”

“That you swore to protect.”

Jaime’s terrible smile was dripping with anger. Brienne almost leaned away, afraid, but instead dared to keep staring into his eyes. She would not show her fear to an oathbreaker. “Just as the King is supposed to protect his people? And yet Aerys would not uphold his side of the vow. He burned Ned Stark’s brother and father alive.”

“You did not kill him then.”

“How could I? He was my King.” 

_He is mocking me._ She grew angrier. “You waited until your Father showed up —“

“Ned Stark found me first,” Jaime said. “I sat on the Iron Throne with the Mad King dead below me, waiting to see who would take it. Stark could have taken it — and perhaps it would have been better if he had. Robert was no King.” He laughed at her expression. “And yet I did not kill Robert even though I perhaps should have. Might have been better for everyone. Especially my sister,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “But no, I let Robert live, just as I let my sweet nephew live. I killed Aerys for a reason, Lady Brienne. And that is all you need to know.”

“What reason was that?” Brienne asked as he got up from his seat. He was trying to escape her — trying to escape her questions. “What reason could you have to kill the King you swore to protect?” 

His back was towards her and so she could not see his reaction. But she saw his right hand clench and wondered if he was about to reach for his weapon. She almost reached for hers when he turned around suddenly, surprising her. 

“Burn them all,” Jaime said, his smirk in its usual place. His eyes were like fire and she shied from it and from him.

And then, before she could do anything at all, he left her, bewildered and afraid. 

* * *

The Kingslayer’s handsome face haunted her in the following nights, replacing Renly in her dreams and her nightmares. Suddenly Jaime was the one married to Margaery Tyrell, a crown made up on flowers upon his head, his white cloak mussed and burning in the fireplace. His eyes would find Brienne in these dreams, no matter what was happening, and then he would say, smirking, “Burn them all.” 

She hated these dreams and hated him even more. This showed in her training with the master-at-arms, Ser Rodrik, at Winterfell. He’d laugh and tell her to slow down, that she was getting sloppy, and Brienne would nod, shamefaced, for he was right. She was getting sloppy in her anger and she could not afford to that with war coming from the North. 

Lord Robb had gone to the Wall now, bringing little Lord Rickon with him as a squire. “You must be the Lord of Winterfell,” he told his brother Bran, who was upset at being left behind. “There must always be a Stark at Winterfell.”

‘I’m a Stark!” Arya had protested. 

“You’re as much a Baratheon as you are a Stark now,” her older brother told her with a kind smile. 

Arya was not very pleased with this but accepted it better than her husband’s leaving her behind again. “I must go south,” he reminded her. “And you did not want to leave your family.”

“You’re my family too,” Arya said.

The King kissed his Queen with such passion that Brienne flushed and looked away. Everyone had seen it and Brienne was sure there would be songs sung of this moment. “I love you,” King Gendry said. “And I will be back.”

And then he rode off with his men, leaving a cursing Arya behind. 

Brienne let Lady Catelyn handle Arya’s anger, fearing that she would not be able to soothe the Queen’s temper, and went to practice, hoping that she would have no need of her swordsmanship. She still had not killed a man, something Ser Jaime liked to mock her for when he felt his tongue needed sharpening. 

She often felt like a whetstone to the man — why else would he speak to her so and barely say a word to anyone else?

He found her in the godswood — a place she had hoped would allow her to escape him. “Lady Brienne,” he said, placing himself right in front of where she sat on the roots of the trees. 

She looked up at him and was startled by his beauty. His green eyes lit up as he took in her blush and his grin grew wider. “What do you want?” she asked him gruffly.

“Is our little Queen safe?”

“You’re her Kingsguard,” Brienne pointed out. She tried not to think about the white cloak that flowed behind him. 

Jaime was silent. 

_What does he want from me?_ “I don’t understand why you are here, Ser Jaime,” she told him.

His almost affectionate smile disappeared before her eyes. “Ah, so it’s Ser Jaime again, not the Kingslayer?”

Brienne almost ducked her head, to evade the accusations in his eyes, but decided against it. _I can be brave._ “You are both.”

“Aye — just as you’re both Brienne the Beauty and Brienne the Maid.” 

The cruel names others called her felt even harsher on his lips. “I am no beauty,” she said. “But you are an oathbreaker and a Kingslayer.”

“You do not deny the maid part then?”

She refused to blush. “You do not deny killing your King.”

He sat down next to her, much too close for Brienne’s comfort. She could see his breath in the cold air. She could even feel it when he leaned over to whisper. It warmed her cheek. “Why should I deny the truth?”

She didn’t know what to say. 

“This weirwood tree is an ugly thing, isn’t it?” he said to her when it became evident she would say nothing. “Why does it cry?”

“Because it sees all the evil we do,” Brienne said. “Like when you killed the King.”

“The Mad King,” Jaime corrected. He looked ready to say something else but Brienne couldn’t abide anymore of his barbs and teases.

“What did you mean when you said _burn them all?_ ”

It was Jaime’s turn to grow silent and she took the opportunity to look at him. 

His eyelashes were long and golden, his nose was sleek and straight, his lips were curved and looked soft to the touch. He was as strong as the Warrior and as beautiful as the Maid.

_No man should be allowed to be this beautiful._

“Aerys said it. He said burn them all to his pyromancer.” Jaime looked serious in a way she had never seen him. “He was going to burn King’s Landing alive with wildfire just so my Father wouldn’t get to him. All of those people, dead. The men, the women, the children… none of them mattered to Aerys. I killed the pyromancer and the King to make sure this wouldn't happen.”

Brienne stared. She knew that Aerys has been mad but… _this?_ “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Jaime faced her and she saw the anger. “Ned Stark was the one to find me. He wouldn't have believed a word I said. He judged me as soon as he saw me.” Jaime’s hand found her forearm and he squeezed. Brienne stared, afraid. “By what right does the wolf judge the lion?”

“He might have believed you,” Brienne said, but she knew Ned Stark now. Knew he wouldn’t. “And even if he didn’t others might have.”

“Like you?” his voice was mocking.

She pushed his hand away from her arm. “I believe you, Ser Jaime.”

His eyes, which had almost looked feverish in his anger, settled. “I shouldn’t have told you any of that.”

“Why not?” she asked, rubbing her arm where his hand had just been. She could still feel the heat of his fingers impressed upon the skin.

Jaime frowned. “You’re too honorable for your own good.”

“And you’re more honorable than you pretend to be,” she retorted.

He only laughed.But it was tinged with sadness and something Brienne could not name. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand to help her up. “Let’s go back before they think I ruined your maidenly virtue.”

She refused his hand and pushed herself up. “They know I would not let that happen.”

Jaime laughed again but it seemed happier. “If you could not defeat me in the training yard with swords what makes you think you could if —“

“Do not finish that sentence.”

Jaime’s laughter rang in her ears.

* * *

“Why do you spend so much time with the Kingslayer?” Arya asked. 

They were perched on Arya’s bed. Arya was buried under her woolen coverlet. The cold was breaking through the rooms — there was another snowstorm approaching Winterfell and everyone outside of Arya’s room was running around preparing for it. Arya had tried to help but was forced into her bed by Maester Luwin. “You need to rest for the babe,” he told her. Brienne suspected they were all worried something was wrong but were too wary to tell the Queen. 

For that, Brienne couldn’t blame them. Arya’s temper was as sharp as her sword. “He is one of the only ones willing to practice with me.”

Arya snorted. ‘That might have been true in the south with those stupid southron men but I’ve seen Ser Rodrik and you in the training yard. The Kingslayer didn’t even practice with you in Highgarden really — he only started practicing with you here.”

Brienne shrugged and made sure to look anywhere but at Arya. She couldn’t explain Jaime’s attachment to her nor could she explain her attachment to him. Hearing all he had to say about the Mad King changed something for Brienne that she didn’t understand. It also helped that she heard him defend her when no one realized she could hear the japes they made at her expense. She was used to such words but she was not used to someone being reprimanded for them. 

“Theon is with Robb now — heading to the Wall,” Arya informed Brienne when she realized she wasn’t going to answer any questions. “I’m surprised he didn’t beg on his hands and knees to go before.” It was surprising. Theon Greyjoy barely spoke to Brienne when she came into Winterfell and didn’t even seem to tease Arya that much. His focus was solely on his friend, the son of the lord who kept him hostage to the North. “I guess it’s because Jon’s at the Wall and they hate each other.”

Brienne wondered about this Jon Snow. “Yes, your Grace.”

Arya groaned. “Please don’t call me that, Brienne.” The little Queen placed a hand on her growing stomach, the bump evident even under the protection of the coverlet. “I can only take so much right now. We’re not in King’s Landing so you really don’t need to be so…”

Brienne blushed. “I understand… Arya.”

“There,” Arya said, satisfied and smug. “Now we can stop fighting about it. And, instead, you can actually answer my questions.”

“I’m not sure how to answer them, your— Arya,” Brienne said. “We seem to find each other’s company here in the North.” Brienne looked back at Arya and realized, quickly, that she had made a a mistake. Arya’s gaze was too shrewd not to notice something.

“He likes you more than he likes anyone else. Except perhaps the Imp,” Arya said. “And his stupid sister.”

“She’s your goodmother,” Brienne reminded Arya, whose face only soured.

“Don’t remind me,” Arya said. “But I don’t understand how you got into the Kingslayer’s good graces?”

Had she? _I must have or else why would he tell me the truth? Why would he say anything to me when he has said nothing to anyone else._ If anyone else knew it would have been proclaimed across the land on Lord Tywin’s orders. But no one knew.  

_No one but me._

Brienne shrugged off Arya’s question. “I do not know. I can’t fathom it.”

Arya pursed her lips. “It’s because you’re kind, I bet. Even to him.”

Brienne recalled how she called him the Kingslayer to his face and flushed. “I do not think that is it.”

“I heard him defend you to one of those southron that followed me and Gendry here — even before we got to Winterfell. It was while we were in the Eyrie,” Arya said, her hands grasping her sheets in remembered anger. “They were awful and I was ready to go over and challenge them to a duel when the Kingslayer stopped me. He went over and said something with a smile to that prat and the man’s face turned whiter than the Kingslayer’s cloak.”

“What did Ser Jaime say?”

Arya cocked her head and her eyes grew thoughtful. “He told them to call you Lady Brienne.”

* * *

Ravens flew into Winterfell’s rookery and so Brienne was not surprised when Maester Luwin shut himself in Arya’s room with Lady Catelyn and Lord Bran. Jaime stood outside, looking bored until Brienne walked by, too curious not to check in. 

“They’re still busy,” Jaime told her with a grin. “Unless you’re looking for me?”

Brienne ignored that, hoping that a smile of her own wouldn’t escape. “Do you think everything is all right?”

Jaime was not one to lie. “No,” he said. “I think it is not good at all. Hopefully it’s not too much for our Stark Queen. Or if it is — it’s good she has been placed on bedrest.”

Almost as if Jaime summoned it, Brienne heard a shriek on the other side of the door. “Shouldn’t you check on her?” she asked, horrified by the sound and worried for the Queen.

Jaime looked surprised by the idea. “I… I don’t do that. Her family is there and so is her Maester.”

“You’re her husband’s uncle! You’re her family too.”

“I’m a Lannister,” he corrected. “Someone who is not welcomed in the Stark home.”

“Then why did the King leave you here to protect his pregnant wife?”

Jaime’s smile was wry. “Because my sweet nephew trusts that no one trusts me here.”

“I trust you,” Brienne said. 

If she thought he had been surprised before… “My lady,” Jaime said, somehow looking more beautiful than she could ever dream. His golden hair glowed in the candlelight and his mouth curled in a smile. Brienne began to lean in closer, to hear what else he was going to say when the door burst open and Lady Catelyn appeared with her son Lord Bran next to her.

The lady of Winterfell looked rather unruffled by whatever they spoke about in Arya’s room (and despite Arya’s muffled tears). She looked much more disturbed by the sight of Ser Jaime and Brienne speaking. 

At the look of accusation in Lady Catelyn’s eyes, Brienne blushed. “My lady,” she said. “I came to visit Queen Arya. May I go in?”

Lord Bran smiled at her. “You can!” he said, before his mother could counter it. Lady Catelyn sighed down at her son but smiled too. 

“Yes, you may. She will need a friend.”

“Thank you, Lady Catelyn,” Brienne said, flushing at the praise. She bowed at both of the Starks (which, she noticed, made Jaime’s lips turn up in a strange sort of smirk) and went inside.

She found a very unhappy Arya stuck in bed, red-faced and near tears. Maester Luwin was standing beside the bed, fixing up a draught of some kind. “Now, now, Arya,” Maester Luwin soothed. “This is good news.”

“It’s good news my husband won’t be back in time to see his stupid heir born?” Arya said. “I hate this — I never wanted to be Queen! I hate all of this and I don’t want a stupid baby!”

“Arya,” Brienne said, surprised by what she saw. “You told me you loved the baby.”

The hardness on Arya’s face melted but then grew again. “I don’t want to talk of it! Why can’t Gendry be here?” 

“He’s going directly to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea,” Maester Luwin said, in a tone that made Brienne think he explained it to Arya several times. “To fight off the invasion of wildlings.”

“And White Walkers,” Brienne added, remembering the horrible stories the men came back with. “Does that mean he finally convinced his Grandfather?”

“Yes,” Arya said, wiping her face. “They don’t seem to really believe the White Walkers and wights — not even Lord Tyrion seems to believe Gendry but they believe that the Wildlings are a threat. They didn’t send that many men but they sent enough that Gendry think there’s a chance.”

A chance of what, Brienne wondered. “Perhaps you should be sent to King’s Landing as soon as you are able to, Arya.”

“No!” Arya and Maester Luwin said at once. 

Maester Luwin coughed. “What I mean is that Arya is… well,” he hesitated. 

“I’m not going to King’s Landing unless Gendry is the one making me,” Arya said, glowering at Maester Luwin. 

Brienne suspected there was more to the Maester’s reasoning than that but didn’t want to think about it. 

At least not then. 

Later that night, Brienne remembered the ghosts of girls who were and how they died in their birthing bed. Brienne shivered under her covers, praying for Arya to the old gods and the new, hoping that they would protect her from death. 

* * *

“I wish I could be there,” Jaime told Brienne. Another raven came and went while they were training and Brienne knew Jaime was thinking of the battle beyond the Wall. She knew because she bore bruises from his aggressive attacks under her leather armor and had seen the anger in his eyes. 

“I do too,” she confessed, remembering her dreams of summer. Dreams of being a Knight, dreams of battling evil, and dreams of becoming a song.

“Perhaps we should ride off,” Jaime’s laugh was bitter and angry and a part of Brienne wanted to do what he suggested. Ride off into the morning sun, head North until they spied the Wall and then fight what lay beyond. 

“We can’t,” Brienne said instead. He looked back at her with lidded eyes almost as if he knew what she was thinking and feeling. 

“My lady —“ he started to say but was interrupted.

“Ser Jaime! Lady Brienne! Come quickly!” Lord Bran said. For a moment, Brienne couldn’t find him, that was until Jaime pointed up. The little lord was on top of a roof, looking distressed. “There’s been a letter. Maester Luwin says we need you both!”

Brienne ran. 

Jaime wasn’t far behind her.

When they reached the solar, panting and afraid, Bran was already climbing back in from the window while Lady Catelyn and Maester Luwin paced inside, both distressed. “Tarth has been attacked,” the Maester said, looking directly into Brienne’s eyes when he saw her come in. “By Aegon Targaryen.”

Brienne couldn’t look at anyone but Maester Luwin. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Aegon Targaryen is dead,” Jaime said. “Ned Stark knows it too — write to him.”

Maester Luwin ignored Jaime. “Your Father is alive, Lady Brienne, he’s being held hostage by the supposed rightful King.”

“My nephew is the rightful King,” Jaime said, angry. “This is an impostor.”

“Ser Jaime, calm yourself,” Lady Catelyn said, her voice imperious. She exhaled before continuing, her finger tapping on the wooden desk. “King Gendry has sent armies to take back Tarth with Lord Renly’s help and is heading back to the Red Keep himself. We thought you should know what is happening, Lady Brienne.”

“There’s more news, isn’t there?” she asked.

Lady Catelyn and Maester Luwin looked back towards each other, their faces complicated. “It seems that the Martells have… aligned with this Aegon and are holding Joffrey hostage.”

A loud noise interrupted the Maester and Brienne realized Jaime kicked a stool over. Maester Luwin continued once the noise settled, his face calm, almost as if Jaime had never kicked it. “Prince Oberyn has not aligned with them, however. It seems he does not believe that this _Aegon_ is Elia’s child. He has come pleading to King Gendry to spare his family once Aegon is captured.”

“Will the King do that?”

Jaime snorted. “He likes the Viper. He’ll do as he says.”

“What are the Dornish doing with their armies? If they’re not coming here to fight White Walkers and wildlings?” Bran asked. 

“Reaching out to Meereen, where a true daughter of Aerys rules,” answered Maester Luwin. 

Jaime’s eyes flashed in pain. “The one rumored to have three dragons?”

“The very same.”

“But dragons don’t exist!” Lady Catelyn said.

“They did once,” Bran interrupted. “They could again.” He almost sounded delighted by the idea — in his head they were stories. Made up of words and ink — not scales and fire.

_Burn them all._ “I hope not.”

“King Gendry has mobilized all the armies he can to squash this rebellion where it stands,” Maester Luwin finished. “And ends the letter hoping that Arya is safe here.”

“He doesn’t know she’s been forced into bed for months?”

“He knows,” Lady Catelyn said. “Of course he knows, she writes to him almost daily — Maester Luwin sends the batch of letters on a weekly basis and King Gendry replies just as quickly as Arya sends them off.”

Brienne would have smiled if the situation wasn’t so grim. “But what of the Wall?”

“The Wall is still standing, my lady,” Maester Luwin said. “And will keep standing. The King has much else on his mind than what he has seen north of the Wall. Winterfell shall have to call forth even more of its Lords’ men. I’ll write and send off the ravens… that is with your permission my lord and lady,” he said to Bran and Lady Catelyn.

Bran nodded, his little face solemn. “Of course. But write to Robb and Father first so they know.” He looked at Lady Catelyn and Brienne realized, startled, that the boy had grown taller than his lady mother. “Right?” he asked.

Lady Catelyn smiled and kissed the boy’s cheek. “That’s right. Go off and don’t speak of this to anyone. Not even your sister, yet. I shall tell her myself.”

Bran went out the window with a smile and then Brienne couldn’t see him anymore. “I’ve tried to make him stop climbing,” Lady Catelyn said, her gaze following her son. “But he never listened.”

Jaime spoke. “If Joffrey dies, Cersei will tear the realm apart — she will tear Oberyn apart.”

“Then it is good that Gendry is King,” Lady Catelyn said, turning back to face them. “And that your sister has no say.”

Jaime’s jaw clenched and his beauty became more frightening than wondrous. Brienne stopped whatever he was going to say by pressing his arm — he looked at her, confused. “My lady,” she said to Lady Catelyn who watched the exchange between them with wary eyes. “Should I ride south?”

“No,” Lady Catelyn said, looking over at Maester Luwin. “I don’t think so. But it is your decision, Lady Brienne. It is your land and your house at stake. Do what you must."

* * *

Brienne decided not to leave until the babe was born, too afraid to leave Arya in the state she was, and too afraid of what she’d find south of the Neck. There was no sign of dragons yet but Brienne had a terrible feeling there would be.

“I bought you a horse,” Jaime said to her one evening, much to Brienne’s surprise. “It’s as ugly as you so apologies for that. Not very good horseflesh up North.”

She ignored his baiting tease and tried not to let herself be hurt by his words. 

“Don’t you want to see it?” he asked and Brienne, sighing, obliged him.

He led her to the stables where several pretty horses chewed on cold hay. “It’s that one there,” he told her, pointing to the most beautiful bay mare she had ever seen. “I think it’ll suit you for the ride south. When you go, that is.” 

“I wish you could go with me,” was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She looked back at him, expecting a laugh or a barbed tease but instead, he looked red-faced. 

“Brienne,” he said but was interrupted by Bran who ran into the stable with charged breath. 

“It’s Arya!” he said. “She’s having the babe!”

Jaime and she looked at one another and within moments they were following Bran up the winding path to Arya’s bedroom. “Stay out,” warned Brienne to Jaime who looked almost amused at her command. 

“Of course,” he said. “It’s not as if I was there for his father’s birth.”

“Or _her_ father’s birth,” Brienne said, annoyed.

“Or _hers_.”

But Jaime turned out to be right. It was a boy. “He’s splendid, isn’t he?” Arya asked with a grin. “And since Gendry isn’t here I get to name him.

Lady Catelyn grimaced. “Arya, what are you thinking?”

“His name is Jon,” she said. “And now that I’ve said it, it’s his name. That’s all there is to it.”

“Prince Jon,” Brienne smiled at the baby. He had no hair yet but his eyes were the same shade of blue as his father’s. “It suits him, Arya.”

Arya beamed.

* * *

A letter came during the fuss with the babe, Brienne found out later from Jaime, who had spent the day with Maester Luwin and Bran determining how to answer it. “The wildling threat has been defeated,” Jaime told her. “Although the White Walker threat is… growing. And there’s a new Lord Commander on the Wall.” At this Jaime’s lips twitched. “Lord Commander Jon Snow." 

Brienne thought of the babe that shared the Lord Commander’s name and also tried not to smile. “Arya will be happy to hear of her brother’s success.”

“Bastard brother,” Jaime corrected. “But yes, I’m sure our Queen will be quite pleased.” 

“And Lord Stark?” Brienne asked. 

“Is headed home with his sons. They will go back to helping Lord Commander Snow fight once they defeat the enemy to the south.”

_Dragons_ , Brienne thought. “But what if they can’t?”

“Then I suppose we’ll die.”

She almost hit him but his fingers clasped hers instead. “Don’t die, Brienne,” he told her. 

She could not breathe. He was too close. She was only glad they were far away from anyone else, sitting on the ground by the weirwood tree which watched them with foreboding eyes. “Protect Queen Arya and Prince Jon,” she said. 

Jaime pushed aside of strand of hair that had slithered across her face. “I will do my duty,” he said. 

Brienne knew she should speak but could not manage a word. His face was too near, his eyes were too sharp, his smile too wicked. “I-“ was all she was able to say before he kissed her.

Immediately she pushed him away. “I’m not a jape, ser,” she said, getting up from the ground. “I’m not.”

He watched her, amusement dancing in his eyes which only confirmed the burning feeling in Brienne’s stomach. “I know that, Lady Brienne.”

“Then why did you do that?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“You are a member of the Kingsguard. You cannot marry —“

“A kiss is not a marriage,” Jaime shrugged. “And it was barely a kiss at all.”

“I cannot let any man kiss me — I’m my father’s heir.”

“I’m not like other men,” Jaime said. “And if you’re his heir perhaps you should do as men do and fuck whoever you want.”

Brienne knew she was red now. She just wasn’t sure if it was from anger or not. “I am still the Lady of Tarth.”

“And the Maid of Tarth,” Jaime said. “Although we can change that. You do not have to be so pure and fair.”

“I thought you were different,” she said, wishing she was good enough to best him. She still clenched the hilt of her sword anyhow. “But you’re just as dishonorable as they say.”

“You can’t choose who you love,” Jaime said, his voice quiet. “And if I could, I would have chosen differently.”

_He doesn’t mean me. He doesn’t mean he loves me?_ “What in seven hells are you saying?”

Jaime smiled for a moment at her cursing but then it fell away with a sigh. “I did all of this for Cersei,” he told her. “And still she leaves me for others. I was always true to her and yet…”

The rumors she heard at Gulltown broke through Brienne’s memory. “The Kingslayer and his sister,” the men had snorted, their beards sloshed in ale. “All those blonde ones are hers — Stannis knew it and that’s why he went home to Dragonstone.”

“The children are yours,” Brienne said.

He didn’t deny it. 

* * *

The road south was as long and cold as everyone said it would. “Take a boat from White Harbor to King’s Landing,” some suggested while Maester Luwin shook his head. 

“Too dangerous,” he told her. “There are too many war vessels in the sea ready to battle. Although, the Kingsroad isn’t much safer for a lady.”

“I’m not a lady,” she said then, thinking of the Kingslayer’s lips on hers. And so she went south towards the Kingsroad.

The Kingslayer didn’t look for her before she went and she tried not to let it sting. She smiled instead at Arya, who came out in the snow in a blue dress while covered in furs. The baby Jon was in the Queen’s arms, quiet as the snowflakes that fell around them.

“I’ll miss you,” Arya said. “And tell Gendry I’ll kill him if he doesn’t live.”

Brienne wouldn’t dare to say to her King but smiled. “I’ll miss you too, your Grace.”

Arya stuck her tongue out and then laughed as several snowflakes fell onto it. 

And with that, Brienne climbed onto her horse and rode away, trying not to wonder if the gaze she felt on her back was the Kingslayer’s.

* * *

It took weeks to reach King’s Landing. She was fortunate enough to stop in at Riverrun where Lady Catelyn’s brother Lord Edmure Tully ruled. He allowed her rooms and tried not to frown at her armor and sword. Brienne appreciated the effort but suspected they would both be gladder when she left and so she did as soon as she was able, thanking him for his charity to a stranger.

He sent a troop of soldiers with her — some were knights out of stories while others seemed to leer at her. “No lady should be here alone on the road,” another said. Brienne couldn’t remember his name.

“I’m not alone,” she said, patting the beautiful horse Jaime gave her. The man only laughed.

They were heading to King’s Landing for the same reason she was. The war had brought them all to kneel before their King. 

Aegon still had not been brought to justice although Tarth was saved from any more of his machinations, she found out once she was seen at the Red Keep. Much had happened in the weeks between Riverrun and King’s Landing. Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan the Bold, was removed from his office while Gendry had lain injured from a battle, unable to speak. “Now the Kingslayer will be Lord Commander,” Brienne heard someone say. “While Barristan runs off to Dorne.”

“No, his father will remove him too. Then he’ll be the heir to Casterly Rock instead of the Imp.”

Brienne closed her eyes when she heard this, feeling sick. A tumult of emotions swarmed her and she tried not to look at Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella, who stood in the side gallery, when she was allowed to see King Gendry at court. They were golden like their Father with cherub sweet smiles and a beauty that could not be outmatched by their eldest brother. “Lady Brienne,” Gendry said, sitting on the Iron Throne without a trace of discomfort. “I am glad to see you safe in King’s Landing.”

Brienne bowed and tried to ignore the titters of the courtiers. “Thank you, your Grace. I am sure you have heard word of your wife and your son but I would like to tell you myself that they were in good health when I last saw them.”

Gendry’s smile was wide and genuine. “Thank you, Lady Brienne. I have received letters but it is good to hear from someone who has seen them.” Brienne bowed her head, hoping it’d hide her pleased flush. Perhaps it didn’t for the Dowager Queen Cersei spoke. 

Brienne hadn’t noticed the Kingslayer’s sister in the court but it seemed she was only off to the side, her green eyes flashing with something Brienne could not name. “When is the little Wolf Queen to come back to us?”

“As soon as King Gendry wills it, your Grace,” Brienne said, unsure.

Cersei Lannister laughed. Perhaps it was supposed to sound light and fair but it made Brienne think of shadows and the things beyond the Wall. She shivered in the warmth. “I doubt that,” Cersei said. 

“Mother,” Gendry warned and she stopped. 

Eager to get away from Cersei, Brienne asked what she had wanted to know. “Is there any news of my father, your Grace?”

“He’s alive still,” Gendry said. “He’s with Lord Renly in Storm’s End recovering from our siege of his castle. Two sieges in a few months is a lot for any man to take.”

Brienne agreed. 

It was only later that she found out the extent of her father’s injuries. Gendry called in her in his private solar, with Ser Arys Oakheart standing beside him, silent. _He’s not as handsome as Jaime_ , she thought, then felt ashamed by it. “Your father might not live much longer, my lady. If you wish to see him, I will send off a retinue with you to Storm’s End. Uncle Renly will be there awaiting further instruction anyhow.”

_My father gone from this world?_ “But what of the other troubles — where is Lord Oberyn?”

“In house arrest,” Gendry said. “Mother wanted him for the black cells but Grandfather and I said that it was a stupid idea.” He scratched his head and groaned. “Usually I agree with Grandfather on nearly all matters but when I was unconscious Mother sent off Ser Barristan in a fit of anger and now no one knows where he’s at.”

“Ser Gregor Clegane has been sent after him,” Ser Arys said.

Gendry only groaned louder at that. “And if Ser Barristan the Bold heads to Dorne what do you think they will do to Ser Gregor?” 

_Something deserving,_ Brienne thought, remembering the tales of what happened to Princess Elia and her children. “I have heard your uncle is to become the new Lord Commander.”

“They would be wrong,” Gendry said. “It is my decision and I think that would reek of something awful. I have picked Ser Arys to lead the Kingsguard.”

Ser Arys brightened the room with a bashful smile but then clamped it shut. “Thank you again for the honor, your Grace.”

Gendry laughed and then shook his head. “Grandfather only agreed to remove Ser Barristan so he could remove Uncle Jaime too. Once he gets back from Winterfell with Arya and Jon, he, well, he won’t be part of the Kingsguard any longer.”

“Does he know?” 

“No,” Gendry said. 

* * *

Brienne hesitated writing the letter, afraid it would find its way into the hands of Lord Varys, the Master of Whispers. Something about him unnerved Brienne and it wasn’t just the soft way he spoke. She distrusted him and his words. 

Queen Arya, she wrote and then crossed it out. If she was addressing a letter to the Queen surely it would be read. But to write the letter to Jaime himself would be just as suspicious. She settled on writing a letter to Maester Luwin hoping for the health and happiness of the Stark family and asking about the war north of the Wall. 

And then she wrote about Jaime.

* * *

It almost wasn’t a surprise when Queen Cersei found her in the training yard early one morning. Typically, Brienne would be practicing with Arya at this time when they both lived in the Red Keep but Arya was still in Winterfell. “You,” Queen Cersei said. ‘Come with me.”

Brienne stared at the three Lannister guards by the Queen’s side and obeyed, bending her head down as deferentially as possible. _Why did he want to kiss me if this is the woman he loved?_ Brienne wondered, trying not to gape at Queen Cersei’s beauty. 

“Why did you tell the Stark’s about what my Father plans to do? Hm?” the Queen asked once they reached her solar. “Are you a traitor?”

“How would that be traitorous?” Brienne asked, swallowed by the scent of lavender that lingered in the room. The sun shone through the large windows and through an open door Brienne could see where the Dowager Queen slept. _Where Jaime had slept._

The Queen sipped her wine, her eyes narrowed. “Why did you do it?”

Brienne tried not to look away. “I thought he should know.”

“Why?” Queen Cersei’s smile was mocking. “Do you love him?”

“Do you?” Brienne asked.

Queen Cersei laughed outright. “He is my brother,” she said, pouring herself more wine out of a golden decanter. “And have some wine, dear, it might make you less… dull.”

Brienne didn’t touch the glass. “He is my friend.”

Queen Cersei sniffed. “Jaime doesn’t have friends. He’s a Lannister — all we need is each other.”

“That sounds lonely,” Brienne said, wishing she could leave. “If that’s true.”

“Get out,” the Queen said, without preamble. “You bore me.”

Brienne obeyed as quickly as possible.

* * *

“I will be with you on your trip to Storm’s End, my lady,” Lord Tyrion Lannister said. “And might I say I think my brother lied? I think you have grown!” 

Brienne bit the inside of her cheek. “I haven’t.”

“Grown in beauty then?”

“Have you grown?” she asked the Imp. He only laughed. 

He and Jaime were much more alike than Jaime and the Queen, Brienne thought. Queen Cersei and Jaime only shared looks while Tyrion and he shared temperament and a love of terrible japes.

Yet they were still different for there was always a whore found in Lord Tyrion’s bed while Jaime… Jaime had only tried to kiss her. Only her outside of his sister.

_Why me —_ she wondered at night, when the stars drifted above her. _I am no beauty_ — _not like the Queen. I am no beauty compared to any lady. I am no true lady at all. Septa Roelle would laugh if she had seen Ser Jaime kiss me._

Brienne wondered if Lord Tyrion knew about the kiss for he looked at her with a puzzled expression when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. Storm’s End is where he finally spoke his thoughts.

“My brother writes of you often,” he said when he found her in a dark corner of the castle. Brienne had been staring at Renly and Margaery dancing with each other and laughing, smiling as they did so. “Asks after you in every letter I receive of him even before you came to King’s Landing. You are the only woman I’ve ever heard him speak of besides my sister. Not even our mother’s name crosses his lips.”

Brienne blushed at the thought of Ser Jaime’s lips. “So it’s mutual then?” Lord Tyrion asked, looking unsurprised.

“What?” Brienne asked, but Lord Tyrion only grinned and disappeared into the crowd of lords and ladies. She debated about looking for him but decided she did not want to hear his words. 

Brienne only wanted to see her Father. Selwyn Tarth had his own set of rooms where Lord Renly’s personal Maester attended to him. Brienne had seen him twice since she arrived that morning but suddenly wished to see him again. He looked gray and old and tired, the opposite of her memories where he was larger than life and full of vitality. 

“He will die soon,” the Maester told her when she entered. “You must know this, my lady, and be prepared.”

_Tarth will be my responsibility. I will have to save it. Rebuild it._ “Are you sure?” she asked, instead, clasping her father’s cold hand. But she didn’t have to hear the Maester’s response to know the truth. Her father would be dead within a fortnight and nothing she could do would stop it.

So she prayed.

* * *

“The war is over,” Tyrion said to her, mere days after her father’s funeral. She fiddled with her black armband and looked over at Jaime’s brother who gave her a hesitant smile. “Over before it really began.”

“Good,” she said, wondering what Tarth looked like. Was it burned? Would the women have enemy’s children in a matter of months? “Now the King can send the armies north of the Wall.”

“So you believe the tales?”

“I believe the Starks,” she replied, looking out over the parapet. She wondered how much Tyrion could see from his height. From her height she could see the whole sea. In her heart, she could almost see Tarth beyond the water’s edge, as beautiful as ever. “Do you?”

“Jaime believes them and he hates them,” Tyrion said, a gust of wind almost making it impossible to hear his words. “Or he did. He’s become softer since heading north. I blame you.”

“Me?” Brienne asked, surprised. “What did I do?”

Another cold gust flew by and Tyrion’s hair became mussed. She wondered what she looked like. _Not beautiful._ “I don’t know,” Tyrion said, almost sounding annoyed about it. “But you did something.”

Uncomfortable with the thought, Brienne changed the topic. “But the war is done?”

“Yes. My annoying nephew has been returned to us, Doran Martell has laid down his arms and this false Aegon was captured in battle by one of the Tyrell sons. I’m assuming Garlan since Loras has yet to leave Storm’s End since he helped the siege of Tarth and Willas is busy planting sons in his wife’s belly.”

She needed to thank him for that. “Is Sansa to have another child?”

“It looks that way,” Tyrion said.

Brienne smiled and stared out at the sea. If there were tears in her eyes, she could blame it on the cold wind pricking her eyes. “I am glad.”

“We still have not heard about the dragons, though. And Ser Barristan is still missing from action,” Tyrion said thoughtfully. “So who knows. Another war may be coming our way.”

“I hope you are wrong.”

She could hear the grin in his voice. “I hope so too.”

* * *

Tyrion insisted on guiding her to Tarth. “A Lannister Always Pays His Debts,” he chimed to Brienne when she asked why.

This cleared up nothing for Brienne but she was too tired and worn to deal with Lord Tyrion’s riddles. She was glad to be at sea again. It had been too long since she was on a boat and longer since she had swam in the tempestuous sea. It was too cold now for winter had come south of the Neck, but she imagined swimming in the blue waters that surrounded Tarth as the sailors readied the boat.

“I told you the Queen is back in King’s Landing, did I not?” Tyrion asked Brienne. Her stomach churned.

“That means your brother…”

“Is now my father’s heir.” Tyrion’s smile soured and then grew bright again. “Well, it would have if my brother did not refuse it. He is just Jaime now.”

 _That’s what he has been to me for a long time._ “Is your sister not angry?”

“When is Cersei not angry?”

Brienne didn’t know how to answer that so, instead, listened to the sailors sing while they worked on preparing the ship. One sailor began to sing “The Bear and the Maiden Fair” as he hoisted the sails and Brienne sang along, her voice quiet.

_Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair!_

_I'll never dance with a hairy bear!_

_A bear! A bear!_

_I'll never dance with a hairy bear!_

“Does my brother know you can sing?” smirked Lord Tyrion. “Because your voice is lovely. Jaime,” he called out and Brienne flushed with shock. “Listen to your lady.”

“I’m not his lady,” she protested but it died away once she saw Jaime emerging from the bottom of the ship. Tyrion’s grin was horrible when she looked back at him in dismay. _He snuck Jaime on! How did he do that? Why did he do that?_

Jaime did not wear the garb of the Kingsguard any longer but simple shades of blue and red, white and gold. _My colors…_ “What does my lady do?” Jaime asked his brother whose smile grew wicked. _Well, more wicked._

“She sings.”

“Well?” Jaime asked, expectantly.

Brienne glared but continued the song, looking away from both Lannister brothers who she was sure were close to laughing.

_ I called for a knight, but you're a bear! _

_ A bear, a bear! _

_ All black and brown and covered with hair _

_ She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair, _

_ But he licked the honey from her hair. _

_ Her hair! Her hair! _

_ He licked the honey from her hair! _

_ Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air! _

_ My bear! She sang. My bear so fair! _

_ And off they went, from here to there, _

_ The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair. _

“You really do have a lovely voice,” Jaime told her once she finished. “Perhaps you should be a singer instead of a knight.”

“I thought I wasn’t a knight,” Brienne said, remembering the sting of his words from long ago.

Jaime’s smile was soft and Brienne imagined his mouth on hers, the way he tried once before. If Tyrion was not here, she expected he would have tried again. _“You are to me.”_

“I’ll take my leave now,” Tyrion said, whistling. “We haven’t left shoreyet so I will find my way back to King’s Landing.”

“Casterly Rock might be safer,” Jaime laughed.

When Tyrion left them, Brienne whirled on Jaime. “What are you doing here?”

“Father removed me from the Kingsguard,” he told her. “And I refuse to be his heir. I don’t want to be the heir — I never have.”

“Your sister—” she said.

“— is not who I thought she was,” he finished with a dazzling smile that was sharper than Valyrian steel. “And I expect I’m not who she wants me to be any longer either.”

“What are you doing here though?” Brienne asked again, half-sure this was a dream. “On my boat?”

“Tyrion wrote me.”

“That tells me nothing.”

Jaime laughed. “My lady,” he said, his tone infusing her with the warmth of a summer fire. “I want to help you.”

“With Tarth?”

His green eyes danced as merrily as a sail did in the wind. “If that’s what you need.”

“Won’t your Father stop you?”

“He thinks I’ll run back to him. He forgets I’m a lion too.”

 _How could he forget that?_ Brienne wondered as Jaime gazed at her. His eyes were soft but his mouth was hungry — it was almost as if he was one of Prince Tommen’s kittens looking for food. “Why are you with me, Jaime?” she asked, finally, afraid to hear the answer.

A roar from the sailors interrupted her and Brienne realized, suddenly, that they had finally left the dock for the stormy seas. She almost fell from the surprising movement of the boat but Jaime grabbed her arm. “Because I want to be,” he told her.

 _He’s too close again_ , she thought before he kissed her, his lips softer than his smile.

* * *

 

They were married quickly, Jaime insistent, and Brienne too surprised to disagree. She would have been afraid of retribution from his Father if Gendry had not ordered him to fight the threat north of the Wall. 

“He can do nothing to you now,” Jaime said to Brienne when he proposed in the sand. “Let us marry before he can try.”

They married in a quiet ceremony by the sea. The same septon that had married her parents married them with only one worried look at Brienne. This was the Kingslayer she chose to marry, the septon had told her before the ceremony. No one would blame her if she chose to flee instead of marrying a man like him.

“I will marry him,” she told the septon. “And his name is Jaime.”

She worried less about the wedding and more about the bedding. It approached quickly, too quickly for Brienne, and when the bedding ceremony started with a laugh, she grimaced and tried not to hurt the men too badly when they attempted to rip off her dress.

Jaime was naked when he landed in her rooms and she flushed. She had never seen him naked before and it took all her energy not to look. He laughed at her. “You’re my wife now, my lady. You can look and touch.”

“Why did you marry me?” she asked him, instead of staring at his prick. “Why me?” _You could have had Casterly Rock and the most beautiful woman in the world._

Jaime’s smile dimmed. “We don’t choose who we love, Brienne,” he told her, reaching out for her hand. She let him take it and he pulled her close, pressing her chest against his, his leg going between hers. Brienne ached.

“But we choose who to spend our lives with,” she said, trying not to let him kiss her, trying not to let the ache overwhelm her senses. If he kissed her, she’d become distracted and the ache would grow worse. “You chose to spend the rest of yours with me.”

Jaime kissed her collarbone since that was the only part of her he could reach. She frowned down at him even as another part of her sighed, desperately. “I did.”

She let him kiss her then, enjoying the way he looked up at her through his golden eyelashes. His lips parted her with his tongue and then slowly he caressed her arms. “I want you, Brienne,” he told her and she knew he did.

Just as she wanted him.

“We need to do our duty now, don’t we?” he asked, his voice slithering in her ears. She shivered and it wasn’t from the cold. His naked body was too warm and she could not feel anything but him. He kissed her earlobe and she gasped and clutched him tighter.

“Yes,” she agreed and suddenly his fingers were inside her and he kissed her with such force that she had to hold onto him for fear of falling.

And then he removed his fingers and entered her. “Oh,” she said, unsure of whether she was in pain or not. The pressure lit up her insides and so did the ache. He stopped kissing her lips and instead moved to her neck.

“I love you, Brienne,” Jaime whispered and she reached for his face, unsure of what to do. She kissed him and he slowed his thrusts, both of them exploring the other. She wondered if she was too hard compared to his sister but when he started thrusting again, faster than he had before, she had no time or energy to wonder, too eager to match him, trying not to moan.

When the moan escaped, Jaime laughed and then let out of a groan of his own as his seed spilled inside her. She had to bite back a smile when he laughed and threw her on the bed.

“I hope our children are like you,” he said, once they had finished for the second time. “Tall and strong and honorable and dutiful.”

Brienne wondered what he saw in her that made him love her so. "They sound like you," she said and smiled.

 


End file.
